Eyes
by Bisho-jo Trio 123
Summary: This is the story of A.C. 180 and tells how Odin found Heero when he was a baby. Odin's past may be revealed as well as the mystery of Heero Yuy. Please read and review.


A little fic from Bishojo #3. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), I made up the stuff about Odin's past. He may seem a bit OOC, but the only time we get to see Odin is in Episode Zero and I tried my best to get his personality to match the manga. So if he's a bit OOC, sorry.

Odin Lowe walked through the desolate streets of the colony. Every since the death of Heero Yuy, the streets of many colonies became a bloody mess. A fierce war broke out and many civilians suffered greatly.

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It was the one bullet that changed history forever.

Another massacre had just occurred. Those unfortunate enough to be on the streets at that time lost their lives. Odin cursed to himself as he looked among the horror scene. Very few people were on the streets. They were mainly trying to clear out and identify the dead.

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With one second, history can change. Pain can rise. Chaos.

Just then, a noise cut through the silent streets and pierced Odin's brain. It was the soft sound of a baby crying. It was coming from underneath a bridge. He didn't know what it was, but something was drawing Odin to the sound. Perhaps guilt.

He stopped and stood over the source of the sound. It was coming from underneath a soft yellow blanket. Odin knelt down and slowly lifted the sheet. His eyes narrowed at what he saw. It was a Japanese baby boy. 'He must've been orphaned or abandon.' Odin thought as he looked at the child. Something tugged at his brain, telling him that he couldn't just leave the infant there to die. Perhaps it was that guilt again.

Odin carefully wrapped the baby up in the yellow blanket and gently carried it in his arms. There were too many bodies around to identify which ones were the boy's parents. He looked down at the baby in his arms as he walked. He had finally calmed down and stopped crying when he realized someone was holding him. Odin's first intentions were to take the baby to an orphanage. He certainly didn't have the time or patients to care for the child. That's when the baby opened his eyes to look at the man who was holding him. 

There was something about those colbat blue eyes. 'This one's got potential. I can see it.' Odin thought. His gaze never left the baby's eyes. 'I could use an apprentice. I could teach him. I know he'll be able to use the skills I teach him to good use some how.' With that, Odin turned back to his apartment. 

The baby was quiet the entire way. As Odin reached for his keys, he glanced down to see if the baby was still awake. He was wide awake and casually looking around, taking in his surroundings in perfect silence. Odin smirked a bit. "Hm, the quiet type, huh?" he said quietly as he opened the door.

Odin gently placed the baby in a dresser drawer stuffed with a few T-shirts and lined with a blanket. "Sorry, kid, but this is the closest thing to a crib you're gonna get." He said. He then folded his arms and looked at the child. "Let's get a few things straight, shall we? First of all, I am not you're father and you are not my son. The only reason you're here is because you look like you've got some potential about you, and potential is a terrible thing to waste."

The baby looked at Odin, never taking his gaze off of him. It was almost as if he were listening. 'This kid, he reminds me a bit of myself.' He thought. That's when it hit him. 'Name, the boy needs a name.' He looked down at the baby again. The young child was beginning to drool. Odin grunted inwardly and quickly wiped the drool away. The last thing he needed was a baby slobbering everywhere. Even behind the boy's babyish antics, there was a degree of seriousness that he seemed to pick up when Odin first held him. Odin saw it. The look in his eyes was much like his own. He chuckled a bit at the barely noticeable, yet large resemblance that he and the baby shared. 

'He needs a name.' His subconscious reminded him. He sighed. Name giving was not something he was good at. The baby looked Odin in the eyes, as if anticipating what name he would receive. Yet, even then, the look of seriousness mixed with wonder never left the baby's eyes. It was the same eyes Odin had had, ever since that fateful day.

////////////////Flashback/////////////////////////////////////////////

"Father!" Young Odin yelled as he ran to a young gentleman of about thirty. The man turned to face his young son. "Odin, you're not ready." He said sternly, with a hint of disapproval in his eyes. Odin narrowed his eyes. "I am, that's why I came." He clenched his fist tightly near his chest. Determination radiated from the boy's eyes as he looked at his father. "Stupid child," he chuckled. "You've got nerve coming all the way over here, so you must truly be ready. What did your mother say about this?"

"I didn't tell her."

The man sighed. "Odin, you really are unbelievable. Not only have you come here against my will, but you snuck out of the house without even telling your mother. All right, you can come. Just remember, there are times when you must be obedient, and there are times when you must only listen to yourself. Understand?" Odin smirked at his father's remark. His eyes were still narrowed and the determination never left them. "Of course I do. This was one of the latter times, that's why I came." 

The man nodded at his son and finished packing. "Get in." he instructed as he finished securing the last bit of cargo. Odin climbed into the back of the truck and leaned up against the tail gate. The man then climbed into the driver's side of the cab and started the truck up. "You're letting your son come along?" his friend from the passenger side inquired. "He's only ten. I don't think this is a good idea, Mark."

"He's ready." The Mark replied. "He wouldn't be here if he wasn't. But, just between you and me, I was going to take him anyway. It's about time he learned how to handle a gun."

The truck started it's way towards the open shooting range. Odin closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest as the truck bounced along the bumpy road. The man in the passenger side chuckled at the sight of the youth through the rear view mirror. "He tries so hard to be like you." He said. Mark smiled and nodded. "The boy needs a role model. Stupid kid, he'd be lost."

The truck made a sudden stop and the two men climbed out of the cab. Odin jumped to the ground and stood awaiting instructions. The two men began unpacking. Odin watched carefully as his father and his friend began assembling the shot guns and other such equipment. He took all of their movements in carefully.

Mark finished unpacking and handed his son a small shot gun, smiling. Odin took the gun in his hands and looked up at his father. "Be careful with that. Don't shoot at anything unless I tell you to." Odin nodded. "Remember to shoot only when you have your target in your cross hairs, got it?" Odin nodded again. Mark was a bit annoyed at his son's nonverbal responses, but the look on his face told him he understood.

The trio spent the rest of the morning practicing in the shooting range. Mark was amazed at what a good shot Odin was. 'Hey, it's in his blood.' He thought as he finished packing up. Odin jumped in the back of the truck as Mark and his friend made their way to the cab. No one even anticipated what happened next.

Mark opened the door to the truck when a few shots rang out. Since they were in a shooting range, no one thought anything of it. Though, even if they did, no one would've been able to stop what happened. Just as he was about to enter the truck, Mark suddenly let out a sharp scream and arched his back. Blood splattered the car interior and the wind shield shattered as the stray bullet ran through it. 

Mark's friend was at his side in an instant. As he desperately tried to make contact with his rapidly dying friend, Odin watched in shock. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open a bit. He blinked a few times then slowly followed the path of the bullet with his eyes back to it's source. 

He saw a man not too far away on a hill. The man had a horrified look on his face, almost like a deer caught in headlights. He glanced around frantically, then spotted Odin. When their eyes met, the man looked even more panic stricken and suddenly regained the ability to move again. Odin narrowed his eyes in anger and hate as the man cowardly ran off after shooting his father.

"Odin…." Mark strained to say. Odin jumped out of the truck and knelt down by his father. He was laying on his stomach and surrounded by a warm pool of blood, which the ground was gratefully soaking up. "Odin, if I should die, remember this. You have a lot of potential about you, and potential is a terrible thing to waste. C….challenge yourself and excel in….. .everything you do." 

Mark let out a soft moan and his head dropped to the ground, making a small splash in the puddle of blood around him. "Father…" Odin mumbled, his voice a bit shaken. Odin's friend was too busy phoning for an ambulance to notice the grieving youth. He was sad, why shouldn't he be? Yet, for some reason, tears never fell from his eyes. He didn't stop them from falling, they just never presented themselves. Odin just stared at his father until he heard the distant sounds of the paramedics.

Mark some how pulled through, but the bullet damaged some nerves, leaving him paralyzed. Even though he survived, his spirit didn't. He was never the same man again. Odin was deeply enraged by the incident, but he never showed it. His anger and his spirit were buried deep in his soul, only surfacing through his eyes. 

Many times, Odin would stare out the window, looking at his reflection. In his eyes, he could see his own spirit and potential that others could not. He could see such things in other people's eyes too. Skills and emotions that they themselves may not know they have. That is why Odin hated it when strong people never got a chance to use their skills, all because society said it wasn't important enough to be acknowledged. It wasn't right.

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The look that the baby had was just like his own on the day his father was shot. Perhaps he knew that his parents had died for a useless cause. Whatever the reason, the baby had that look in his eyes, and Odin was not about to let another soul go to waste. A small smile crossed his face. The child was like him in so many ways. "Your name," Odin began, getting the baby's undivided attention. "is Odin, Odin Lowe Jr."

The end. Okay, that was awful, but please tell me what you thought? :puppy dog eyes" Please?


End file.
